Fourth
by Metroid13
Summary: Derek Reese won't go down in history as the greatest patriot, but even he finds stuff to do on Independence Day. One-shot. Renewed as usual on the Fourth of July.


**Fourth**

(A/N: Updating this one a year later for Independence Day. Enjoy.)

The first firework of the day, which was fired at the curb and detonated three seconds later, sent Derek Reese from getting the morning paper to diving back into the house, screaming for John to take cover. And then he felt very, very stupid when John, reeking of embarrassment, explained what the occasion for such pyrotechnic misadventures was. Fireworks. Y'know. Fourth of July. Cookouts and beer. Birth of a nation. _The_ nation. You remember? America? US of A?

Yeah, Derek had said to John upon the conclusion of his stilted, half "y'know" composed explanation. Yeah, I remember fireworks. It was what Kyle said the moment I realized nuclear apocalypse was upon us. And before that? Sure, John. I can pick up what you throw down. I remember cookouts and the United States before I lost my teenage innocence. My mistake, just a little shell-shocked after, y'know, twenty plus years of being around loud bang-boom things that usually signal approaching death.

Ok, great, John said, voice resonating with his usual "stop complaining about this shit" angst.

The second firework went up a moment after that, a little bit down the street, detonating four seconds later, which caused Derek to lunge at John and hold his head against the floor.

Things got only slightly better after that. Laying on a sandy, flesh be-riddled beach with a book gripped in his hands, Derek winced as the seven hundred and ninety seventh firework sounded off nearby. Sarah was about as thrilled with the idea of celebrating the existence of a soon-to-be-deceased nation as Derek was, but John insisted on celebrating _somehow._ Yeah, I know it's stupid, he'd said, but it's normal, right? Sarah couldn't very well argue with that. Derek wouldn't go down so easily, though. This is useless. Instead of _watching_ fireworks go off, we can be building rockets ourselves. Cameron immediately called him out for condoning the construction unstable explosive devices in the presence of John Connor, and then Derek lost the point he'd been trying to make in the first place, choosing instead to have yet another verbal spar with the Terminator.

That was an hour ago. Right now Derek was busily calming himself down, whilst mentally preparing himself for the next flight of rockets. He was also, more technically, supposed to keep an eye on "the kids" as Sarah chose to spend her time breaking into cars stationed at the large parking lot nearby and stealing half the money she found in each one. John was swimming and goofing off royally with his lackey called Morris. Derek found the word "friend" difficult to use in conjunction with John Connor, and so a lackey Morris was. And not a very good one at that, spending most of his time ogling at Cameron.

And since things seemed pretty much well in hand there (and how could they go wrong under Cameron's authoritarian, unrelenting eye?), Derek languished under the sun with an understated paperback novel, trying to look touristy. He tried people watching for a while and found that most of the beach dwellers were more interested in turning the sky into a smoke-filled blast zone than in... well, _not_ turning the sky into a smoke-filled blast zone. What sort of way to celebrate a fucking holiday was this, anyhow? Much as Derek loved blowing shit up, he _didn't_ like having stuff blow up around him, and especially in ways he had no control over. Reminded him way too much of the war. Holidays, times of rest and celebration, couldn't be done in peace and quiet? Most people got their rocks off to blowing shit up in ways that couldn't possibly harm them though, and so they took advantage of the Fourth of July to do just that. It was the same sort of "because we can" logic that lead a group of scientists to think to themselves, "I know we can pretty much defend our airspace by ourselves, as we have for decades, but wouldn't having a computer do it for us be that much more satisfying?"

He knew what John would say to such thoughts. Hell, even Sarah. Quit being such a downer. People do these things and they're fun. It's normal. What the hell did normal _mean_, anyway?! Stupid. Sometimes, when his rage wasn't directed at everything even remotely machine related, his ire was spent on human stupidity.

Another screeching roar, followed quickly by two more. Derek blinked rapidly with each passing sound. Fireworks were the _worst._ Hated them, they were useless, utterly decadent and should-

It was weird. Derek had been _watching_ the guy with the green jacket and slick looking sunglasses with a slight bit of intent, but he hadn't realized just how much the guy was watching _John_ with quite a _bit_ of intent. He was standing a few meters away from the ocean, face turned toward the sea. He was pretty tall and well built. Like Derek he was an oddity, a shirted man in a field of chest-bare frolickers. Legs barely moved, arms stiff and neat against his sides. Derek dropped the book and stared forward at the man with a new, dreadful sort of interest. He'd been watching the man on-and-off over the past twenty minutes, concerned with his decidedly... suspicious appearance (the body-building channel was something Derek staunchly stayed away from,) and now the man was staring off at the waves. Toward John. In the savior of mankind's general direction. The jacket looked big enough to conceal any matter of handguns and rifles. Fuck, he could have been looking at the lighthouse for all Derek knew, but...

Well, he was walking away now. His head remained looking toward John. It was a weird sight. His face didn't move, and his body did. Definitely toward John, he looked at the boy even when he was a good few meters away from him.

Derek stared at the guy even as another firework went up. When the man disappeared from view, headed towards the nearby boardwalk, Derek turned his head up to watch the sky-reaching rocket explode.

And he smiled.

--------------

"Booster Rocket" Sally smirked as another satisfied customer went away with a firework kit in his hands. It was smirk that was mostly brought on by the two hundred dollars in her hands, which made a nice sound when you flipped them through your fingers. But the "satisfied" part of it was also important! Just less so than the cash. She'd made quite a bit today on the boardwalk. Always did, and this year was particularly fruitful. She'd far surpassed the assigned quota for this year and had managed to secure a higher percentage of profit from her local distributor. She could probably afford to close early and take the rest of the day off.

She poked her head past the storefront window and looked around. No one really around... except a gruff looking man a few meters off. Probably wouldn't be looking for a firework. Probably. And if he did, she'd have the store closed in time. With a hearty cackle she turned the _"Yes, we're OPEN!" _sign around started to take the various firework and incendiary device products off the counter. She dismissed the pouty little sixteen year old brat she kept around for help for the day. She was only too happy to get off early.

Sally went out for the broom to clean up the refuse around the storefront. Another few minutes and everything would be nice, spick and span. More money, less work. She loved it. Capitalism at its-

The gruff looking man was outside, waiting patiently. His wallet was out. Oh dear...

Sally walked over and pointed at the sign. _"Sorry, we're CLOSED!"_

The man smirked at the motion, but he didn't bother moving. A firework went off nearby, which caused him to jump slightly.

"Can you read?" Sally asked him.

"Yeah, I just don't care."

"Don't care, huh? Well, if you _cared_ about getting yerself a firework, maybe ya should have come sooner, eh? If you _cared,_ that is! Maybe _I_ don't _care _because _you_ don't _care._ Eh? Think about that?"

"I've got five hundred dollars."

"Booster Rocket" Sally giggled, "What'll it be?"

"The one that'll make the biggest boom."

-----------------

Rocket and launcher wrapped tightly under his arm, Derek made his way into the parking lot. He found Sarah whistling happily and trooping around a few cars, trying to act discrete as a bunch of families sauntered toward the beach.

"Any luck?"

"A thousand dollars worth," Sarah said. "You'd be amazed at... what's with that?"

Derek looked down at his purchases, "Figured I'd set one off."

She raised an eyebrow, "I thought you hated them."

"I do."

She raised the other eyebrow and looked decidedly helpless before his "logic." So instead of pursuing that subject, she looked past him and said, "John's trying to hide. He's been following you."

"That's the plan," Derek said.

She sighed. "What _are_ you planning?" The group of beach-goers were far away enough now for her to start picking the lock on the nearest car.

"Setting off a firework with John."

"Did you ask him to join you?"

"No."

She sent him a decidedly vile look as the car door let out a nice _click! _

"You enjoying yourself, Reese?" she growled, reaching into the car and extracting a purse.

"Soon."

She stepped on his foot before she leaving.

-------------

About a mile away, now far from the revelry (the fireworks made deep, resonating _boom_s from here), Derek finally stopped in an open field. He removed the launcher kit from underneath his arm and checked the set-up instructions. It wasn't even remotely hard to figure out. He'd assembled much worse in his lifetime, and usually with greater intent. He was acting on pure suspicion alone here, but suspicion alone was often enough for him.

Before he set up the launcher, he tooled around in the field for a few minutes, doing his best not to grow annoyed with the whiplike grass that whacked at his legs. Ignoring the fact that his nephew was squatting between some bushes about a yard off, Derek selected a nice, big looking rock and carried it over to the launcher. Selecting the greatest field of view for the launcher to spew the rocket toward, he positioned the launcher and used the rock to pivot it so that it would fire at an acute angle, rather than straight up. Then he unwrapped the rocket itself and loaded it into the launcher. He gave a brief check to the stated content information on the side of the rocket before grunting in satisfaction. Should be good enough for what he had in mind. It _would_ make a nice boom, and Derek had complete control.

A mile away, in the ever-growing twilight, flashes of light burst skyward, and the explosive booms of their passing made the whole thing sound like nothing less than an artillery duel. Human engineers aim for approaching HK-tanks and hope for the best while computer-guided artillery shells with spider-bombs imbedded hone in on their sorry asses, launched by marauding Skynet artillery vehicles. It wasn't a pleasant memory, and he immediately regretted the comparison.

Why would people celebrate this way? The lights, the sounds, it was all too much like war, except it was painless. It was thoughtless. Desensitizing. No one likes anything more than a good excuse to blow stuff up. Derek hated that. You should never blow shit up unless you've got a reason for it.

John, not able to take the suspense anymore, sauntered out of the tall grass and coughed. He looked wet and generally happy with his day so far, but concern was etched clearly into his features. Derek turned to him and smirked, "Hey there."

"I thought you said you hated fireworks," John said slowly.

Derek nodded, "I do."

_Boom boom boom._

"So..., uh... what's with the firework, then?"

"I'm gonna set one off," Derek said.

"But you said you hate them."

"I do hate them."

John sighed. "You're supposed to be watching us... y'know, at the beach?"

"Cameron can do that for me."

"She's more interested in Morris," John said. He sounded vaguely angered by that.

Derek gave John a look. "'Interested?'"

The teenager rolled his eyes, "He interests the hell out of her. He's like her social guinea pig. Repeats phrases by him, y'know, stances, that kind of thing."

"That's great, John," Derek said.

John stood there and sighed. "Well. Bye then." He turned. Slowly.

"Hold up."

John smirked broadly, although Derek didn't see it. "Yeah?"

"Why do you _you_ celebrate the Fourth of July?"

A brief silence. That was fine. Derek was playing for time, anyway. His eyes kept scanning the tall grass.

"Me? Personally, or you mean... y'know, generally?"

"You."

John sighed and shifted uncomfortably. Maybe that had something to do with the sharp grass on his bare feet, but it was probably more due to the fact that he hated being in the spotlight. Rather ironic.

"I know... I know it's stupid, yeah. I spent half my life in Latin America and my first citizenship papers here were forged. Mom only brought us back so we could blow the hell out of Cyberdyne, so... y'know, as a _country_ it's not that important to me. Not gonna exist much longer if we don't do anything about, y'know, Skynet. But I've always worn a t-shirt with an American flag, though, when it's today. Always set off a sparkler or two. Go to the beach, like now. Eat a hotdog, yeah. It's... I guess I just like to melt in with everyone else and have a common thing to celebrate. To have an illusion of being part of something greater than myself. You know what I mean?"

_Boom boom boom._

"Yeah, I suppose," Derek said. "I just wish everyone would do it in a way that wasn't so... as a species, we're really stupid sometimes."

"What happened to it... after the bombs?"

"What?"

"America, y'know."

Derek folded his arms and looked down, remembering. "Uh. A month after, the president went on the air and said to be calm. He told us America was still around, and that, uh, the rest of the world was suffering with us. He said they'd been in contact with Europe and Asia, and we were all gonna try our best to all survive as a nation." He looked at his nephew, who suddenly looked impossibly young and frightened. Had to get ready... Had to. "That was, uh, the last time it was mentioned, I think."

"So... what, I don't say anything about it?"

"You talked about humans more than Americans, John. Always."

John smiled. "Seems weird, though..." As he trailed off, Derek caught a slight bit of movement in the grass, a few yards away. "I mean, you've got this holiday for two hundred years and-"

"Get down."

John threw himself to the ground and shimmied toward Derek. A bullet cut a blade of grass in half. Derek rushed down alongside his nephew and told him to stop breathing.

_Boom boom boom._

Silence. Darkness was coming down steadily all around them, making the flash of fireworks ever more bright in the distance. Amid those brief, rainbow colored illuminations, Derek caught sight of a lone figure standing tall amid the grass. John let out a slight, frightened gasp as he saw the same thing. He pulled himself into a crouch, his mother's training probably kicking in like a boot to the ass. _RUN RUN RUN RUN._ Derek grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. A bullet tore through the air just above where he'd squatting.

T was zeroing them. Derek turned to the boy and whispered, "Crawl away. Stay as low as possible. Doesn't matter where you go, just be quiet about it."

John nodded quickly, eyes wide, shining with adrenaline-fueled terror. He did as instructed and wormed his way off.

Derek took in a deep breath, waited for another firework to go off. He took out the Glock 17 he kept in his jacket and silently dropped the safety hammer. Near pitch, all around. He reckoned he could see a pair of red dots a few feet off, but it was probably an illusion. In his other hand he carried a lighter.

The ground winked with perfect light in the wake of yet another colorful explosion. The green-jacketed man stood in the middle of the field, scanning it. Almost... right where he needed to be, too. Derek dropped the Glock, scooped up the biggest rock he could collect in under a second, and tossed it.

It hit the ground with a slight cough of sound. All that was necessary to the T. The man whipped around and let loose with a long burst at the place the rock had landed. After exhausting the mag, the T advanced over to the spot, loading in a new one.

_C'mon... c'mon..._

The field lit up. The Terminator was standing exactly where it was supposed to be. Derek ignited the lighter and turned it toward the fuse on the launcher. Then he got up and ran for his life. The T spotted him with ease and sent a few 9mm's his way, but none of them hit their mark. He felt one soar just near his neck and he dove to the ground. Looked back.

The rocket sprang forth with a whistling wail of sound. The light was amazing and brilliant, nearly blinding. The whistle was briefly interrupted as the rocket slammed into the Terminator's torso and carried it several feet before exploding with an earth-shattering boom that left Derek's ears ringing. About a million tiny flaring sparks flew out in all directions. They were all colored red, white, and blue. They soared briefly into the air for a few seconds before falling back toward the earth to wink out of existence, but for the time being the entire field was engulfed in a dazzling display of colors.

When the last flare disappeared, all that was left was smoke. Grinning like a wild man, Derek got up and started over toward the center of the field. He heard someone coughing a few meters off. The smoke made the darkness even more oppressive, forcing Derek to call out John's name.

A few more coughs, "F-fine!"

Derek grunted and continued on. The only sound, other than John, was the listless turning and moving parts that remained of the Terminator. The robot's malevolent crimson eyes stared uselessly from its skull, attached to a one-armed, badly shattered torso. Tiny bits of skin hang off in taters all over it. It was moving busily in Derek's direction. Derek halted a few feet from it and aimed toward the CPU-port.

The first shot bounced off the covering and loosened it. Second one tore right through like it was paper. Derek moved to a few feet to the left to get the best view of the inside and fired twice more into the unprotected system. The Terminator's eyes blinked off immediately and it collapsed to the ground.

Smirking, Derek turned to see his nephew, covered with a slight coat of ash, blinking at him.

"That was so fucking awesome," John said softly.

"You were the one who taught me that trick, actually."

John let out a weak laugh. He was staring at what was left of the Terminator.

_Boom boom boom._

Derek snapped his fingers, "Hey, snap out of it. Call your mom and tell her to get the goddamned car over here."

John pointed at him, "I gave you the phone, Derek." Christ, he sounded so awe-stricken.

"Oh. Right, yeah, well... start picking up pieces, then."

"S-sure. That..."

"Was fucking awesome, I know. Fireworks can be put to good use, I guess. Happy Fourth."

"I'll say."

**I'm in no way an uber patriot, I just thought this would be fun to write. And it was. Happy Fourth of July, to all who celebrate it. **


End file.
